A Soldier's Leave

Jongno, Seoul.

After meeting with the employee at the construction company, I stood frozen in place for a long time. The conversation had been shocking, but more than that, I simply had nowhere to go. I had no destination.

If I had known it would be like this, would it have been better to just stay in the Congo? Did I come back to Korea for nothing? The thoughts drifted through my mind.

Even so, I pulled out my phone and searched for nearby hotels. I had to sleep somewhere, after all. My father never cared where I slept or how I lived, but I was different. I was going to treat myself with respect. I would eat good food and wear fine clothes. I had plenty of money. I was no longer the Gong In-bae of two years ago.

I hadn't even touched my military salary and allowances, and the cryptocurrency I bought alongside my seniors had yielded decent returns. On top of that, the cash I had swept into my Inventory when I was captured by the thugs from Mujin Construction was completely intact, and the bags of dollars I had taken from the rebel stronghold not long ago were untouched as well.

Though paltry compared to those sums, I also had the money from selling ice cream and the wages from my part-time jobs before enlisting.

Money is useless if it just sits in an inventory. It only has value when spent. Today was a perfect day to spend some.

I started walking. Before long, a department store came into view. Without hesitation, I pushed open the massive glass doors and stepped inside.

The moment I entered, a blast of cool air-conditioned air hit me, carrying the distinct department store scent—a blend of high-end perfumes and cosmetics. It was the scent of wealth, something I had always found intimidating. When I was young, just smelling this would make me shrink back. It was a scent that didn't belong to me or anyone in my world.

But not anymore. I wasn't intimidated by things like this. If you have no money, they look down on you as if you're lower than a bug on the street. But if you spend money, a department store is a place where people will gladly lick your toes.

I walked straight into a luxury boutique on the first floor.

As I entered, a cold gaze swept over me. It was familiar. A look I had received countless times in this city. Her eyes were filled with suspicion, yet her lips wore a smile. It was a facial expression manufactured by capitalism. But it didn't matter. Whatever expression she wore was of no concern to me.

"I'd like to buy a suit. Could you recommend something?"

"Excuse me?"

Did she think I was just going to touch the clothes, look at the price tag, and slink back home? I didn't even have a home.

"I said I'd like a recommendation! I don't know what to choose!"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My apologies. The suits are right this way. This particular piece is from our classic line, a new arrival for this season..."

Did my somewhat forceful tone change her mind? The suspicious glint in her eyes vanished. Instead, I could see a desperate desire to avoid making any mistakes. She seemed anxious that I might file a formal complaint.

"Can I try it on?"

"Yes, of course."

I took the suit to the fitting room and put it on. Perhaps because it was a luxury brand, it hugged my frame perfectly. The man in the mirror looked entirely different. I suppose this was why people wore designer clothes.

When I stepped out, the saleswoman immediately showered me with polite, exaggerated praise.

"It looks absolutely stunning on you, sir. You're tall and have such a great build; you fit our brand's silhouette perfectly. The fit is so precise, I don't think it even needs any alterations."

"I'll need a shirt and shoes to go with this as well."

"Yes, sir. I'll prepare them right away."

I put on the shirt and shoes. Fully dressed, the transformation was even more striking. A handsome man stood in the mirror. He looked like a model.

"I'll wear it out. Do you have this suit in any other colors?"

"We have it in navy blue as well."

"Give me the navy blue one in the same size, and throw in a few more shirts."

"Right away, sir."

Her hands moved busily, carefully folding the clothes and placing them into shopping bags. In an instant, she had sold two suits, seven shirts, and a pair of dress shoes.

"The total comes to 17,540,000 won. Will you be paying by card—"

"I'll pay in cash."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Pretending to reach into my pocket, I retrieved a cash pouch from my Inventory. I pulled out three bundles of fifty-thousand-won bills, each containing a hundred notes, and laid them down. Then I took another bundle, split it roughly in half, and counted.

Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.

"This makes 17,500,000 won, right? Am I short forty thousand? Here, one more."

I placed another fifty-thousand-won bill on the counter.

"Keep the change."

The saleswoman looked utterly bewildered. Was it because I gave her too big of a tip? Well, that was understandable.

I stepped out of the department store. Nothing had fundamentally changed. I had merely changed my clothes. Yet, I could feel the way people looked at me shift. I had also purchased a perfume that reeked of wealth and practically drenched myself in it. This should be enough to mask the scent of poverty.

I headed to the hotel and checked in. I had booked a room that was said to offer a panoramic view of Gyeongbokgung Palace.

The moment I opened the door, the sweeping vista of Gyeongbokgung Palace unfolded before me. I stared at the view for a long time. My old house—now nothing but an empty, barren lot—had a decent view too, but it had never moved me like this.

Gyeongbokgung, Gwanghwamun, and the heart of Seoul lay stretched out before my eyes. Countless people and cars flowed past, and brilliant advertisements flashed on giant electronic billboards before vanishing. I watched the spectacle for a long time.

I inspected the room. The interior was clean and elegant. A pristine, plush bed. A spotless, dry bathroom. Even the ornaments exuded a quiet, confident presence, as if each had been destined for its exact spot.

A rate of one million won per night was a bit staggering, but I was a man who had just spent over seventeen million won on two suits. I had even left a tip. A whole ten thousand won, no less.

Now that I was done exploring the hotel, it was time to get to work. I pulled the bags out of my Inventory.

Whoa, this is a headache. The scale is even larger than I thought.

Seventeen bags in total. Three filled with cash, and fourteen packed with weapons. The cash bags held one million dollars each. The weapon bags contained a chaotic mix of rifles, pistols, magazines, ammunition, grenades, and even explosives like C4.

The problem was the sheer volume. There were nearly thirty rifles and over fifty pistols. The magazines and bullets were too numerous to count. There were even hand grenades and high-yield explosives.

What on earth were those rebel bastards planning to do with all this? This was enough firepower to wipe a small town off the map.

I headed out to nearby Namdaemun Market and bought several sturdy, durable-looking bags. The bags the rebels had used weren't bad, but because they were all the same color and size, it would be easy to get them mixed up when pulling them out of my Inventory. So, to make them easily distinguishable, I bought a variety of bags to sort the items by color and shape.

My Inventory allowed me to store a massive volume of items as long as they were packed inside containers. Having bags of various shapes, sizes, and colors would make managing my space far more efficient. That was why I bought plenty of spares.

I divided the cash into smaller bags of one hundred thousand dollars each. I also sorted the weapons by size and utility, dividing the guns, magazines, and ammunition into smaller, organized bundles—a rifle bundle, a pistol bundle, a magazine bundle, and so on. I kept a few pistols and magazines packed separately so I could pull them out instantly in an emergency.

It took over four hours to finish organizing everything. By the time I was done, the sun had set, and my stomach was growling.

Dressed in my luxury suit, I went out to eat ox blood hang-over soup for dinner. In my hand, I clutched the cash my senior had slipped me before deployment, telling me to buy myself a decent meal.

After emptying a bowl of the famous soup, I felt it would be a waste to head straight back, so I stopped by a nearby bar for a drink.

The night view of Seoul was spectacular. Just yesterday, I was hunting rebels in the Congo. Today, I was wearing a designer suit in Seoul, sipping whiskey while gazing at the city lights.

Undeniably, anyone would say life in Seoul was far better. A life of staying in a million-won-a-night hotel, wearing luxury suits, and eating warm soup was vastly superior. Yet, a corner of my heart remained deeply unsettled. A persistent feeling whispered that this wasn't where I belonged. I didn't fit in with this city. I felt like an outsider here.

Strangely, my mind and body had felt more at ease back in the Congo.

It was a good thing I had only booked the hotel for one night. And not because of the million-won price tag. I would check out tomorrow and leave Seoul. Maybe I'd travel a bit like last time, or perhaps I'd look into returning to the Congo early. Unlike traveling, returning to the Congo required the military's help. I'd have to hitch a ride on a transport flight if one was available, or wait out the rest of my leave.

And so, my first night in Seoul came to an end. It was only the first of my twenty-nine days of leave. I felt a deep sense of dread for the remaining twenty-eight. I had absolutely no idea what to do.

I woke up at the crack of dawn. I guess I really was a soldier; my eyes flew open right at six o'clock. I went down to the hotel gym for a light workout, then took a swim in the pool. After eating breakfast, I packed my things. I didn't actually have any luggage, but it felt like something I was supposed to do.

I stored the clothes delivered from the department store into my Inventory. My preparations for checkout were complete.

Yet, my feet refused to move. I sat on the edge of the bed, just staring blankly. Once I stepped outside, I had nowhere to go. I could have booked another night, but I didn't want to. It felt uncomfortable. The bed was plush and comfortable, and everyone was exceedingly polite, but that very kindness—a life designed for excessive comfort—felt suffocating. It didn't feel like it belonged to me.

The twenty-thousand-won guesthouses I stayed at during ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my solo travels had felt far more comfortable. Rather than a lavishly prepared hotel breakfast, I found myself longing for the simple table of wild greens and soybean paste stew, where a guesthouse owner would hand me a spoon and warmly invite me to eat with them.

I checked out and began to walk. Only when I was cast back onto the streets did my mind finally begin to settle. It seemed my roots truly belonged to the pavement. Did my father know this about me? Was that why he tried so hard to make me live on the streets?

I grabbed a burger for lunch and kept walking. If I had known I'd be walking this much, I should have bought athletic wear instead of a luxury suit.

I hadn't set a destination, but as I let my feet lead the way, a familiar sight came into view.

My house? No, the place where my house used to be. Was it some kind of homing instinct? I had walked all the way here without even realizing it. But there was nothing left here now. Even the last remaining house had been completely demolished.

Actually, on second thought, some memories did remain. Under that tree over there, I had been beaten by older kids. In that alleyway, I had been mugged of the very first paycheck I earned from my part-time job. And at the bottom of those stairs, I remembered being mocked as a filthy beggar.

No matter where I looked, there were only bad memories. There was no reason to remain bound to this neighborhood just because I grew up here, especially when it held not a single good memory.

It was time to break free. I would leave this place and live somewhere else. I didn't know where that would be, but I just wanted to go somewhere my mind could be at peace, somewhere I could breathe easily. That was enough.

It was time to turn back. From this neighborhood, and from my past. I turned around and began to walk away, leaving the neighborhood behind. I would never return to this place. There was nothing left for me here. If there was anything remaining, I would simply bury it.

As I left the familiar streets and merged onto the main road, a familiar face caught my eye. Kwon Jua.

More than two years had passed since graduation. In that time, Kwon Jua had grown even more beautiful. I remembered the time we ate ramen together at my house. It had been fun. Back then, I was constantly on edge, terrified she might discover my Inventory. Looking back, it was a memory that brought a smile to my face. I suppose I did have at least one fond memory in this neighborhood.

But Kwon Jua was also a memory that had to be buried here. I would leave her in the past. A single smile in the present was more than enough.

The call disconnected with a click, and a text message containing an address arrived shortly after. I stared at the address of Sergeant First Class Lee Won-jun for a long time, hesitating, before finally changing my direction toward his home.

"What? Your house is gone?"

"Yes, sir. That is correct."

I had bought some beef on my way to SFC Lee Won-jun's home. His place was an old apartment in Namyangju. He already knew my circumstances inside out, so there was no need to beat around the bush. I explained the situation briefly, and he understood perfectly without me needing to elaborate.

"You crazy bastard! Then you should have called me!"

"I wanted to be alone for a bit, sir... That's why."

"Where did you sleep?"

"I stayed at a hotel, sir."

"Next time something like this happens, you report to me immediately. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. Understood. I'm sorry."

"It's a good thing I called. But why did you buy all this?"

"I wanted to eat it, sir. I bought it so you could grill it for me."

"Then you should have only bought enough for yourself. Why did you buy so much?"

"Don't I eat a lot, sir? That's why I bought plenty."

Just then, his wife appeared.

"I'll grill it deliciously for you. Please, eat as much as you like."

She had a warm, gentle impression, like the eldest daughter-in-law of a prestigious traditional family. She was incredibly beautiful. Either SFC Lee had saved the nation in his past life, or his wife had committed some terrible sin to end up with him.

"I'll do the grilling, ma'am. I'm actually quite good at it. I used to work part-time at a meat restaurant."

"Oh, really? I used to work at one too! But we can't have a guest grilling the meat."

"I'm not a guest, ma'am. I'd feel much more comfortable if you treated me like family. ...Ah, you must be Hojin. You're very handsome."

A boy of about five years old scurried to hide behind his mother's skirt. He looked exactly like SFC Lee.

"Buy yourself some snacks with this. It's pocket money from your uncle."

I pulled out a couple of fifty-thousand-won bills and held them out to the boy. The child hesitated, and SFC Lee immediately tried to stop me.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Put that money back right now!"

"I'm just giving my nephew some pocket money, sir."

"Look at this punk. Are you ignoring me?"

"My arm is going to fall off, Hojin. Take it."

After a brief struggle, I succeeded in giving the pocket money but failed to grill the meat. SFC Lee had snatched the tongs away.

We drank soju as we ate the grilled beef. The fifteen-hundred-won bottle of soju tasted infinitely better than the three-hundred-and-eighty-thousand-won whiskey I had sipped alone last night while staring at the city lights.

SFC Lee kept grilling. Despite his grumbling about why I had bought so much, he kept placing the best cuts in front of his wife and son like a mother bird feeding its chicks. He barely ate any himself.

Here was a happy family. I had only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ever seen such a thing on TV or YouTube, never in real life. I had never been invited into someone else's family circle before. Everyone had always kept their distance from me. I had always imagined that eating with someone else's family would be incredibly awkward, but it was actually nice. It felt warm.

For a brief moment, I wondered if here in Namyangju, where SFC Lee lived, I might finally be able to live as a local rather than an outsider.